


Small Miscalculations

by JacoTaco



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: After DBS Broly, Dad Vegeta (Dragon Ball), F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Micro Band, Overprotective, Shrinking, Size Difference, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacoTaco/pseuds/JacoTaco
Summary: Bulma finds an old invention and decides to try it out, shrinking herself down to three inches tall. Vegeta is not happy with her decision and is forced to take care of her in her condition. Hijinks ensue.





	1. Decluttering

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction. I wanted to write something light and silly, so I'm hoping you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed making this first chapter. Please leave any constructive criticism in the comments. I would also love to hear any ideas you all might have for future chapters if you find yourself interested. :3
> 
> This takes place about a year after the DBS: Broly movie.

Bulma lazily spun around in her revolving chair, tinkering with an outdated piece of tech. It was just one of many obsolete gadgets that now cluttered her desk along with old blueprints and miscellaneous tools and materials. The scientist’s mission to deep clean her lab was put on hold once again as Bulma instead decided to reminisce over long-forgotten technology dug up from the dustier cabinets in her workshop. 

It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to clean her lab. The lack of cleanliness and organization often led to problems whenever the planet (or universe) was in urgent need of one of her inventions. However, an organized lab was a luxury that she didn’t have the time or habits to make a reality. The busy scientist saw potential in every piece of scrap metal to come into her possession, so time had turned her workspace into a conglomerate of useless odds and ends. She, of course, had the money and resources to hire a team to do the task for her, but she trusted no one enough to responsibly tidy up her possessions. If the genius wanted the chore done right, she would have to do it herself.

In the end she was an engineer- not a maid- so the task of organizing was put on hold so Bulma could fawn over the creations of her younger self. The inventions ranged from her elementary school days to her time collecting the dragon balls with Goku and the others. They were impressive for any scientist, let alone a child.

Bulma turned her attention back to the mess on her desk. Most of the supplies were ray guns or vehicles being stored in antiquated capsules. Cerulean eyes scanned over the mess until they landed on what appeared to be a watch with two buttons adorning the face. Bulma picked up the trinket and examined it, gradually recalling its use to her adventures many years ago. 

The Micro Band was created to allow Bulma to fly on Nimbus with Goku. The cloud refused to allow her to ride on it due to the heinous crime of being too beautiful. So Bulma did what she typically did when gods, dragon balls, or magical clouds failed her; she resorted to science. In the end, the invention had been given to Master Roshi in exchange for a submarine needed to retrieve a dragon ball from the depths of the ocean.

It was only days later when the hermit returned the watch to her, saying it was “more trouble than it was worth.” The heiress shuddered at the thought of what he had meant by that.

Still, the Micro Band was an incredible gadget even for the prodigy that was Bulma Briefs. The watch acted similarly to a DynoCap. It took a significant amount of mass and stored it in a way that would take up a more manageable amount of space and weight. In this case, that particular mass was about 94% of the user’s own body. For Bulma, that meant she would shrink to about three inches in height.

She wondered if it still worked.

The scientist wrapped the bracelet around her left wrist and hesitated. The device was decades old by now. It had been forgotten about in the bottom of a cabinet and collected dust for years. It probably wasn’t her best idea to just slap it on her arm and test it out.

…Then again, patience wasn’t the heiress’s strong suit and this wouldn’t be the first time she pressed buttons at random to see what kind of results she would get.

_To hell with it_ , she thought, and pressed the large blue button on the face of the watch.  

* * *

Vegeta balanced himself upside down, bearing all of his weight on a single digit. The gravity chamber was running at its usual power, but a pair of wristbands created by his wife added an additional strain of gravity to his workout. Her creation would supplement his training without burdening the machine itself. All in all, it was a typical day of training, so the prince’s attention started drifting towards other thoughts.

Vegeta’s mind never used to wander during his time training. Everything in his life had been dedicated to discipline, power, and the goal of surpassing Frieza (and later, Kakarot). There was simply nothing else for the prince to focus on.

Then he met the woman, who screeched her way into his mind and made herself an infuriating distraction. The prince hadn’t just blamed her though; he spent years filled with self-loathing, angry at his mind for succumbing to the pull these newfound relationships increasingly had on it. Vegeta’s years on Earth had muddled his priorities, and until his sacrifice against Buu he felt a significant amount of resentment for the effect a handful earthlings could have on him. Now was different- he was different.

Vegeta stayed perfectly balanced, working to adjust his body to the increased gravity the new equipment provided. As a daily habit of his routine, he closed his eyes and started seeking out the energies belonging to his family. The second largest ki on the compound belonged to the older half Saiyan that resided there. Trunks had recently turned 15, and like many Saiyans, he developed from a child to an adult almost overnight. The teenager matured physically and mentally, receiving a significant power boost in the process.

This breakthrough was currently being squandered, however, as Trunks’ ki was currently lazing around near one of near equal strength. Like most things regarding the duo, Goten was not far behind in his maturity into Saiyan adulthood. Vegeta grimaced, noticing the two energies resting in one of Capsule Corp.’s game rooms the pair enjoyed wasting time in. A new disinterest in training coincided with this new step in the two brats’ lives, and Vegeta was none too pleased with his son’s slacking off.

He would deal with that later as his attention was drawn to a smaller, yet striking energy currently near the edges of their residence. A hint of a smile touched the corners of the Saiyan’s lips as he felt his daughter’s loud and unpredictable ki. Bulla was spending her day with Bulma’s mother and father- something she did any day her own parents were busy in the lab or training room. It was unclear how long this tradition would last though, as Bulla was just over a year old and already running to and from everyplace she went. Her mother made it a point to remind him that his training with Trunks began the day the boy learned how to walk, something that the Saiyan was reluctant to repeat with his second child. Though he would never admit it, Vegeta was perfectly content with allowing Bulla to spend her days learning to bake cakes with her grandmother, or helping to take care of the creatures Dr. Briefs spent his time rescuing. Training could always wait…

Finally, Vegeta settled his concentration on a particularly weak ki that was currently dwelling within the labs of Capsule Corp. It was small, fragile, and nearly indistinguishable from the energies belonging to the other creatures roaming this mud ball of a planet; and yet it was more precious than any energy in this universe combined (outside of those of his children, of course). It was the ki he regularly sought out during his early days of settling on Earth, belonging to the one who produced two children with more power and potential than anything seen in the history of the Saiyan race. It was an energy comparable to that of a common insect, and yet its owner found herself as one of the multiverse’s greatest influencers; someone who made friends with and domesticated the most powerful beings in existence. 

The prince regularly found himself locking onto his mate’s ki. The feeling was comforting and second only to her physical touch. It was common for him to fret over how tragically delicate it was in comparison to those with Saiyan blood, as if it could disappear at any moment. So long as he lived, the prince would never allow that to happen.

In that moment, Bulma's ki disappeared completely. 

Vegeta was upright, firing a ki blast into the console of the gravity machine and another at the door to the hallway. Though Bulma might kill him, it was much faster to activate the fail-safe systems than to walk over and shutdown the gravity manually. He found himself soaring through the curved corridor, his mind flying almost as fast as he was. There was no spike in fear before Bulma’s energy had disappeared, nor had it slowly faded away like it would if she had been dying; and yet it was nowhere to be felt from as far as his senses could reach. 

The Saiyan burst through a wall into the scientist’s lab, powered up and ready to face what he found inside.  


	2. Malfunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind notes, kudos, and bookmarks on the first chapter. I was so thrilled with the response I received! I edited the first chapter a little because I kinda messed the formatting up a bit.

The chair gently rotated to a stop as Bulma adjusted to her new size and position. She sat with her legs ahead of her in the center of the cushioned seat, taking in the new world that had grown before her eyes. Miniaturizing herself while on top of a piece of furniture wasn’t the best decision she had made that day, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. 

Bulma had been her new height for no more than a few seconds when she heard an explosion coming from another part of the building, followed by what sounded like a jet nearing her lab. She braced herself for the impending crash that tended to follow such circumstances. 

Vegeta burst through the entrance, breaking down the entire wall and causing nearly every glass instrument in the room to shatter. Bulma curled up, squeezing her eyes shut as debris pelted the backrest of her chair, which was thankfully facing away from all of the commotion. Eventually the roomed settled down barring the sound of stomping feet and growling echoing off the walls. 

Bulma peeked an eye open to see her surroundings illuminated by a blue light. Her now building-sized chair and desk inhibited her view of the lab from their location at the center of the room. Not that it mattered; she knew her husband was now standing just ahead of her workstation at full power, ready to battle for Kami knows what reason. 

Well she would certainly give him a reason. The scientist let out an exasperated growl of her own at the realization that his mindless actions had ruined the lab she had _just_ been organizing.  _Not that I had made a lot of progress in the first place,_ she thought to herself, but she was over her prince acting like a brute at every single inconvenience. 

Meanwhile, in the center of the lab, a blue-haired Saiyan stood ready to fight the next thing that dared to provoke him. Vegeta’s eyes scanned the room for any hint of what had occurred only seconds earlier, his glare intense enough to destroy whatever was unfortunate enough to cross it. 

His body perked up at a sound familiar enough to not evoke a ki blast from the prince. In fact it was more than familiar, albeit a lot shriller. A slight sense of dread crept up on him, his mind warning him to flee from the imminent nagging that followed a sound like that. He turned his head towards the main desk in the laboratory. 

“…Bulma?” 

The table responded with a set of shrieks, though his Saiyan senses were only able to pick up a few curse words. Vegeta warily approached his wife’s workstation and poked his head around the corner, finding a very tiny and very pissed off Bulma standing in the center of her chair, hands on her hips, staring daggers at the man that now towered over her. 

“Did you hear me, Vegeta?! Do you know how much work I had finished before you came barreling in here like some meteorite from hell?! Why do you _always_ do this? What could _possibly_ be your reason for destroying our home and, more importantly, _my entire day?!”_

Vegeta stood dumbfounded, not processing a word his now doll-sized wife was screaming at him. He pointed a finger at her. “You… you’re… why…” 

The scientist raised an eyebrow as her normally stoic husband struggled to make a full sentence. She squeaked and fell onto her rear when he was suddenly at eye level with her, kneeling on the ground, back to his typical murderous expression. _Well at least we know he isn’t broken… well, no more than he was before._

_“Who did this to you? Where are they now?”_

Bulma blinked at his question before a smug grin spread on her face. She stood up once again, staring the Saiyan into... well one of his eyes, ready to gush over her timeless brilliance. “I’ll give you three clues to guess who did this: she’s stunning, brilliant, and an absolute queen.” She did a less than graceful twirl, showing off her new stature. “Your wife has been a criminal since her teenage years, cause I’ve always enjoyed breaking the laws of physics!” 

Vegeta’s expression was unreadable, “You did this… on purpose.” 

“Of course I did it on purpose! What do you think I am, an idiot?!” Bulma extended her arm, showing off the Micro Band. “I made this when I was no older than 17 so I could _purposely_ make myself this size.” 

“So your _already_ pathetic power level disappears completely, and I fly in here to find that you have intentionally made yourself more vulnerable than ever.” 

Bulma was about to argue, but instead her eyes lit up, “You flew in here like a moron because you were worried about me?” Forget about the lab; her husband could break all the equipment he wanted if he was going to act this cute. 

Vegeta sat back and crossed his arms as a hint of pink dusted his face, “Fix your self. Now. This version of you infuriates me.” 

She rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing to fix. Do you think I made myself this size without having a way to get back to normal?” 

_“Now, woman!”_

“ _Fine!_ Kami, did I marry a Saiyan prince or a drama queen?” Bulma dramatically presented the face of the watch to her unimpressed husband. “Watch and learn, Vegeta, the extent of your wife’s genius!” She pushed the red button that would revert her to her normal size. 

Nothing happened. 

The Saiyan’s scowl softened, “Is it... supposed to take a while?” 

“N-No…” Bulma brought the band to her face, “It’s working, obviously, it must just need a second…” she pushed the button again, “it’s a little old. Age will do this to any great invention, though.” She furiously pushed the button repeatedly and cried out as sparks burst from the face of the watch. 

Vegeta’s hands twitched, eager to help his wife and yet hesitant of the new gap in both size and power. “Get rid of the damn thing, Bulma!” 

Bulma tore the gadget off her wrist and launched it across the chair. It landed between the two as smoke began to seep from its crevices. The couple stared at it before turning their attention to each other. 

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

“ _I’m_ the idiot?! You don’t even know how to use the damn door!” 

“I didn’t use the door because you were in here _being an idiot!_ ” 

“I- _ugh,_ ” Bulma took a deep breath, composing herself. _Priorities, Bulma. Fix this now- argue with Vegeta later._ “Look, I think I can get the Micro Band to work,” she lied. The heiress hobbled across the unsteady cushion and pinched the strap of the band, lifting the smoldering piece of tech. She turned to her husband, “Just help me out and put me on my desk.” 

Vegeta balked at her, “You want me to pick you up?” 

“No, I want you to throw me at the wall as hard as you can.” She crossed her arms, “Yes! Obviously I need you to pick me up! Unless you plan on using telekinesis that’s how I expect you to get me from point A to point B.” The longer Bulma was forced to wallow in the failure of her invention, the more impatient she became. 

Vegeta glanced between his wife, her desk, and the wreckage of her lab. His eyes landed on an empty cardboard box that he reached for and offered to the mini scientist. 

“Get in this.” 

A perplexed Bulma stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“Woman, you’re weak enough at your normal state, let alone now. I don’t want to have to tell our children you died because you decided to make yourself into an insect and I accidentally crushed you. I will take you to your father. Unlike you, he can actually _use_ tools to fix your mess because he hasn’t hindered his own abilities by testing out toys made by foolish girls.” He shot Bulma an accusatory look. 

“I’m not foolish! I’m probably the most brilliant being you have ever met!” 

“Which makes your actions all the more baffling.” 

Somewhat content with that response, Bulma leapt into the bin, sliding along the side until she reached the bottom. When she was settled Vegeta stood up, holding the box containing his wife like she was a kitten for sale. He had forgotten about the training device wrapped around his wrists that continued to restrain his power. Good, that would help him to move more gently. 

“There’s a blueprint somewhere on the table that my dad could use. Grab it before we go.” He rummaged through the papers, finding a sketch far sloppier than what his wife was capable of now. He tucked it under his arm and carried them both out of the lab. 

Bulma beamed up at her hubby, “I’m pretty adorable at this size, don’t you think?” 

The prince peered down at her, “You look, sound, and act like a pest.” She responded by sticking her tongue out, and settled into the box.


	3. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the lovely comments. I really do love reading them! The kudos and bookmarks mean so much as well, of course. <3
> 
> I actually haven't read the DBS manga past the Tournament of Power yet, so I just realized this might not be completely loyal to the canon timeline. At least it is for the anime (For now!). Not that it really matters!

“Dada?”

Bulla held a cereal puff in her tiny, unwashed hand, waiting for her father to accept her gift. Vegeta cringed at his daughter’s offer, but allowed her to drop it into the palm of his hand and, much to her amusement, proceeded to eat it. The toddler was sitting in her highchair having a snack consisting of fruit and cereal while her family gathered at the table next to her. They were currently in the dining room of the senior Briefs’ home, which was situated at the other end of the Capsule Corporation compound.

“You know, you don’t _have_ to eat what she hands you,” Bulma teased from her spot on the table. She was currently lying on her stomach on top of a blueprint, watching the interaction between her daughter and husband with amusement. The glare Vegeta gave her made her snap her attention back to the draft she was resting on. “So what’s the verdict, Dad? I think we could use the printer in the main lab to make some of the parts that aren’t manufactured anymore. We have to scale everything down anyway.” 

Dr. Briefs sat hunched over at the end of the table, staring into a magnifying glass and prodding at the scaled-down Micro Band with a pair of tweezers. “Well it seems that the most important components are still all in one piece. You’re lucky we don’t have to start from scratch- or worse- get you a new arm. It might take a day or two but I should be able to design and print the supplies.” 

A wave of guilt hit Bulma at the realization that her poor, old father would have to spend his entire day fixing her silly mistake. Dr. Briefs chuckled as he noticed her pitiful expression, “Don’t feel bad, dear. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I’m afraid you get your inquisitiveness from your old man.” 

“Well she certainly doesn’t get it from me!” Panchy huffed as she entered the room carrying a tray of refreshments, “These two just don’t know how to keep themselves out of trouble with their silly little science experiments,” she placed a mug of coffee next to her husband and a thimble of the same beverage in front of Bulma, “I swear, Vegeta, sometimes I think we are the only two sane people in this household!” The blonde laid a Shirley Temple garnished with cherries and a colorful straw in front of the Saiyan prince. 

“Arguably…” he muttered, staring at the vibrant concoction the deranged woman insisted on making him ever since he began living at Capsule Corp. 

“And of course my _beautiful_ granddaughter!” Panchy kissed the top of Bulla’s head, squishing the girl’s blue spout of hair and making her laugh, “I know! Why don’t we have a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa’s until your mommy gets better? Your poor daddy is already going to have a handful taking care of her.”

“I am not a handful! He’s the one who’s always so difficult!” Bulma seethed from the tabletop as Panchy pulled the delighted toddler from her highchair. She turned to her miniscule daughter, her permanently closed eyes looking unusually annoyed. 

“I thought this was just a phase in your teenage years, but I guess some things just never change! You know, you’re lucky Vegeta is so sweet and patient and understanding. It takes someone really special to deal with a spouse who goes around shrinking themselves and wreaking havoc with their crazy science projects. Isn’t that right, Honey?” 

Dr. Briefs’ attention was completely on the Micro Band, “Yes Dear, that’s very interesting indeed.” 

Vegeta stared into his cocktail, sipping at it as the two women squabbled. 

Eventually Panchy carried a sleepy Bulla away to take a nap. The baby squeezed her fingers open and closed in an effort to imitate a wave, earning a gentle nod from her father. Dr. Briefs soon followed, excusing himself to work on the models of the much-needed components. 

Bulma stood up, stretching her arms above her head to an impressive four inches tall while letting out an exaggerated yawn, “Is it time to go to bed now?” 

“It isn’t even noon yet.” 

“Huh. Well then what are we going to do today, big guy? I can’t exactly do much cause…” she gestured to herself, “…you know… And I heard what you did to the gravity chamber! You’ll have to wait until I’m back to normal to use it again! In fact, I think I’ll clean the lab you wrecked before I even consider repairing your glorified gym.” 

Vegeta growled threateningly at her, “Maybe I’ll throw you in my armor and go spar with Kakarot then.” 

“You were too scared to pick me up earlier and now you’re acting like you’re going to take me into a fight? You don’t intimidate me, Vegeta; you’re just a big old softy now.” 

“I am no such thing.” 

“The other day Trunks forgot to show up to train with you and you were still talking about it this morning. Face it, Honey, at this point in life you’re a declawed kitten with superpowers.” 

A very flustered Vegeta stood up from his seat and walked over to retrieve their box-turned-carriage from the floor. “I keep asking about it because I don’t understand why the boy would rather simulate a fight on a screen with Kakarot’s brat, when our training is far more interesting and impressive,” he insisted. 

“It’s called a videogame, and the reason is that he’s a teenage boy,” Vegeta held out the bin for her to jump into, “I don’t want to ride in the box anymore, carry me!” she whined. 

“You sound just like Bulla- _what the hell!”_ Vegeta’s hand shot out to catch his wife, who had darted to the edge of the table and leapt off. She landed face down in his palm, “Woman, have you lost your damn mind?!”

Bulma sat up on her knees grinning, which quickly contorted into a frown, “Gross, Vegeta! You smell like a locker room that blew up. I think the first thing I'll have you do is take a shower since you didn't get to earlier.” 

Vegeta cradled the hand containing his wife to his chest, “Dammit woman, I am a prince, not your slave.” The Saiyan used his other hand to shield his wife from the outside, earning a small series of protests from the scientist, "Stop your complaining. I wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t insist on jumping to the ground like a madwoman.” 

The pair walked out of the house and along a path to their home located in the largest structure on the estate. Bulma poked her head out from behind his hand, “Faster, slowpoke! I used to ride in Goku’s shirt while he flew on Nimbus, I think I can handle you moving faster than a turtle.” 

“You used to do _what?!_ ”

* * *

 

Scratch Briefs had a busy daily routine, especially for a cat. While he used to simply attach himself to his owner’s shoulder, the animal had developed a fascination for a particular alien houseguest during his stay in their home. 

So at 4:45 A.M. everyday, Scratch would jump down from his spot at the end of his owners’ bed, leave the house, and stroll across the Capsule Corp. yard and into the main building (using the pet doors his owners installed many years prior, of course). He would stalk the dark, silent hallways until he arrived in front of the gravity room. At 5:00 A.M. his alien friend would arrive and greet Scratch with a few minutes of petting- something he never did in the presence of other humans. 

Eventually his friend would lock himself in his room and the feline would have to find something else to do. Returning to his owner had become less appealing ever since he had begun caring for the smaller, blue-haired person during the day. The bipedal kitten named Bulla was always screaming or pulling on his tail, so Scratch tended to find some peace and quiet elsewhere. 

On that particular day he found himself in a closet curled up on top of a pair of armored white boots. He made a point to chew on the top edges of the footwear before crushing them under his weight, feeling obligated to mark his presence there. The cat snoozed through the day, not even waking to the sound of explosions. That is, until he heard voices enter the room, one of which belonged to his sharp-haired acquaintance. Scratch decided to stay hidden as the alien man typically disapproved of the cat being in his room. 

“See? Carrying me wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Bulma chirped as she leaped from the hand to the bed Vegeta had been holding her over. “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. Didn’t you used to become a giant monkey like, all the time? You should be used to being huge!” 

“Oozaru. And even if I had used that transformation _all the time,_ I wasn’t using it to carry people around like dolls.” A sadistic smirk spread across his face, “I was crushing them, destroying their world, and eating the unlucky ones.” 

To his amusement she looked absolutely horrified, “You _ate_ people when you turned into King Kong?! That’s disgusting, Vegeta! Who knows where they had been!” The Saiyan rolled his eyes at how she had completely missed the point and began to take off his armor as Bulma watched from the bed. “Whoa. Are you stripping for me? Look, your junk has to be like _way_ bigger than me right now, but if you insist on being dirty I’m sure I can figure something out.” 

Vegeta stared back at his wife- who was now removing her tiny lab coat- stunned and completely speechless until he finally remembered how to speak again, “Woman, I am preparing to take the shower that you _demanded_ me to take. I’m not- I don’t even-“ his face was burning as he stormed into the bathroom, “you are disgusting and vulgar!” 

Bulma scoffed, “You were just talking about eating people and I’m the disgusting one?!” She continued to shout at the closing bathroom door, “We have two kids together, Vegeta, you can stop being shy about sleeping together!” 

The water in the other room started running and she sank into the bedding that covered her football field-sized bed. What was she supposed to do all day at this size? She probably couldn’t even push a key down on her computer. The scientist was incredibly restless, and merely sitting and waiting on her husband was making her antsy. 

Bulma felt the bed shift behind her and turned around, coming face-to-face with an enormous black cat. The heiress felt her blood turn to ice. 

“Uh, hi Scratch. What are you doing in here?” She slowly stood up as the cat studied her small form, “Go. Go find my dad so he can give you treats, okay? Go on, shoo!” 

Scratch did the exact opposite, wiggling his butt in the air before pouncing at his target. Bulma squealed and ran to the edge of the bed where she looked down at the floor far below her. When she was a teenager she used to jump from Goku’s shirt all the way to the ground, but for once she could admit that she was way too old to be doing such things. Still, it was either that or be turned into Meow Mix, so she leapt off of the edge of the bed with her eyes squeezed shut. 

Instead of falling, she stayed suspended in the air by her shirt, which was currently being held between the feline’s sharp teeth. She squirmed and cried as the family pet nudged open the bedroom door and carried her out of the room.        


	4. Cat and Mouse

“Woman, that one hair product we both enjoy is running low. You should consider purchasing…” Vegeta trailed off as he approached their empty bed, clad only in his two wristbands and a bath towel that wrapped around his waist. His hyperactive wife must have found a way off of their bed, which meant she had been running around on the… 

Panic set in as the Saiyan began to float in midair, checking the soles of his feet and scanning the floor for his miniature wife. She wasn’t there, both to his relief and concern, so he began tearing their room apart in search of his mate, flying around the space like a gnat. 

“If this is some kind of joke, I will destroy every cup of ramen this planet is capable of producing, woman,” he threatened. There was no response. _Five minutes, Bulma. I was in the shower for five minutes and you managed to make yourself disappear._

Dissecting their room only served to make the prince’s anxiety climb. He would need to calm down and approach this emergency tactfully- something he rarely found difficulty in until he had a damn family to worry about. Vegeta closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves, receiving his first clue in the process. 

_The cat._

The little bastard was in their room recently, but the Saiyan had been too preoccupied to pick up on its scent. The smell trailed from out of their closet, onto the bed, and out the door, which Vegeta finally noticed had been left opened ajar. _How could I have been so oblivious of my surroundings? If Bulma hadn’t been such a damn distraction I would have shut the door behind me!_ The prince’s cushy life on Earth had made him more comfortable with letting his guard down, for better or for worse. 

Vegeta crawled out of his room and along the hallway, tracing the beast’s stench and even picking up small hints of his wife’s fragrance (so long as he remained near the floor). He dreaded the thought of what that animal wanted with the rodent-sized Bulma. He had repeatedly told the woman that he didn’t want the creature anywhere around their home after it had somehow gnawed bite-marks into a pair of his nearly indestructible boots, but she insisted on letting it roam wherever it pleased. The sneaky little bastard had an almost undetectable energy, allowing it to regularly catch the prince off-guard. 

He vowed to gut the little fur ball when he found it. 

* * *

 

Trunks woke up to a landslide of crumbs hitting his face. The bag of chips that had been resting on his chest was dumping its contents onto the half-Saiyan as the couch beneath him inclined towards his feet. Before Trunks could sit up, the sofa fell back to its proper position and his half-naked father came into view. The teenager watched in awe as Vegeta crawled around on the ground, searching underneath each piece of furniture for whatever it was he was looking for. 

“…Dad?” 

The prince ignored him and lifted another couch onto its side. The small bath towel barely managed to hide the parts of Vegeta that Trunks could definitely go his entire life without witnessing. 

“Uh… can I help you with something?” 

Vegeta hesitated as he rummaged through the TV stand before eventually responding to his son, “Have you seen your mother?” 

Trunks tilted his head, ”No... you just woke me up. I haven’t seen anyone today. Why? Is everything alright? What are you looking for?” 

His father’s eyes scanned the room once more before focusing on Trunks and narrowing, “Of course everything is alright! Your mother is fine I just…” Vegeta drifted off and he began sniffing at the floor, chasing some scent trail to the exit of the room. He paused before leaving and turned to look at his son, “Nothing is wrong, boy. Go back to sleep.” 

Trunks watched as the Prince of all Saiyans crawled out of his sight, not quite convinced he was awake yet. 

* * *

 

Vegeta followed the trail of cat dander down the halls of Capsule Corporation, crawling along more and more frantically as time passed. His focus on the floor led him directly into a pair of legs that had stopped to watch the bizarre sight. 

The prince slowly craned his head, processing the other half-Saiyan currently in his home. Goten’s hair had started losing its shape, now hanging around his shoulders rather than standing up at ridiculous angles like his father’s did. Unkempt locks of hair framed the big, stupid, lopsided grin that uncannily resembled Kakarot’s. 

“Hey there Mr. Vegeta! Whatcha doin- _ack!”_ the teenager hit the floor as his feet were pulled from beneath him. He raised his arms in defense and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be showered in punches. Both his and Trunks’ fathers enjoyed initiating impulsive spars- something about _teaching the boys to always anticipate an attack_ \- so this was nothing unusual. 

Yet, the attacks never came. Goten peeked out from behind his arms to see his best friend’s dad… inspecting the bottoms of his feet. The two eventually made eye contact and Vegeta spoke. 

“Did Bulma or a cat walk past you recently?” 

Goten gulped and shook his head. Immediately, he found himself being dragged by the ankles along the floor of the corridor. Vegeta towed the teenager back into the game room and, using a single arm, hurled the adolescent through the air and into an armchair situated against the opposite wall. Goten landed in the seat upside down, seeing his best friend’s jaw drop and wide eyes staring back at him in shock. 

“Hey Trunks!” 

Before Trunks could recover from the events unfolding before his eyes, Vegeta pointed at the two half-Saiyans, “If either of you get out of these seats before I give you permission to, I will make sure that you can never leave them again! Is that clear?!” Trunks opened his mouth to question his father, _“Never again, boy!”_

Vegeta turned and stomped out of the room, leaving the teenagers to stare at each other until Goten broke the silence.

“He said that we couldn't leave our seats. He said nothing about us ordering pizza.” 

* * *

 

Scratch carried his prey throughout the building, looking for the perfect place to go through with his plan. He certainly couldn’t stay in his alien friend’s room; whenever the blue-haired woman wasn’t present the man would pick him up by the scruff and deposit him outside their door. 

So the feline instead trotted through the house, looking for the perfect place to leave his catch. It had been years since he had a successful hunt; after all, old age tended to weaken the senses. The critter currently squirming around in his grasp had been dumb and slow, relaxing out in the open in broad daylight. Despite how easy it had been, he knew the powerful man would be pleased with his offering. 

Scratch considered the kitchen, but humans were finicky about rodents being near their food. His pal never seemed to use the entertainment rooms, not to mention there were two adolescents currently sleeping in there that might find the gift instead. As the cat circled the first floor of the mansion, he came across the most obvious place to leave his present. 

Despite the catastrophe that befell the gravity chamber, the space around it was in pristine condition outside of a few scorch marks. The ki blasts had completely obliterated any potential debris, leaving nothing behind to clean. Scratch entered the large hole in the wall leading to the antechamber of the gravity room. The space was used to store additional sets of armor, bottles of water, and a control panel with far more features than the one in the actual gravity area. 

“Scratch I swear I will send you to the pound if you do not sit me down right now! Do you hear me?! I said put me down _now_!” He ignored the small creature in his mouth as a pair of white boots in the corner of the room caught his attention instead. _Purrfect!_ The cat strutted over to the footwear and held his prize over them. 

"Wait, no! Don’t put me down right here!” The small woman cried out as the cat plopped her into the tall shoe. Scratch then got to work rubbing his fur along the material, both to enjoy the texture and to mark them with his scent. As if to bid farewell, the cat chomped on the rim of the boots before scampering away to his own home. It was around time for the toddler to eat lunch and he was well aware of the fact that there would be many scraps of food on the floor. 

Bulma, on the other hand, stayed seated in her place in the shoe. She rested her chin in the palms of her hands and pouted, “I think this might just be worse than Namek. I’m three inches tall, I’m covered in cat slobber, and it smells like gross Saiyan feet!” she began to wail, “I’m going to grow old and have a bunch of kids and live in here forever!”

The heiress sulked and toppled backwards, trying and failing to forget the fact that she was sprawled out on the floor of a workout shoe. _Well, at least he didn’t eat me…_ though Bulma did wonder why Scratch had just abandoned her here. She recalled how the cats her parents cared for would occasionally leave small critters around the house- sometimes dead, sometimes alive. _Well it’s good to know I’m on par with a dead freaking rat._

The boot was abruptly flipped over and Bulma screamed as she tumbled out of it. She landed on a cushiony surface and opened her eyes to see an equally startled Vegeta, staring down at her in the palm of his hand. 

“Bulma?!”

“Vegeta!” Bulma threw herself at his thumb and squeezed it as if to give him a hug. She turned her gaze up to him, “You found me! I was so scared and seriously grossed out! Scratch had gotten ahold of me!"

Based on her demeanor, Vegeta determined that she was fine outside of being bug-sized, smelling like a gym sock, and (to his disgust) being slightly damp. He relaxed, “I didn’t expect you to be in a damn boot, Woman. I had to follow that beast’s scent and search everywhere for you, you pain in the ass.” He raised his brow at her, “What were you even doing in there?” 

“Oh, you know, just seeing if they were my size.” She crossed her arms, “What kind of question is that?! The stupid cat put me in there! Because he’s a stupid cat and cats just love doing stupid things like that.” 

Vegeta tilted his head, “Why?” 

“I don’t know? My mom would sometimes find dead or injured animals in her slippers when we had a bunch of cats running around. I guess they do it to leave them as gifts or to show off or kill them later.” She shrugged. 

“That... is very Saiyan of them.” The prince began to reconsider his punishment for the cat while Bulma groaned and buried her face in her hands.


	5. Badman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a bit busy so there was a small break between chapters, but I'm glad to be writing again! Thank you all so much for all of the great responses! It seriously means a lot to me!
> 
> I'm not sure how long with series will be. I have a ton of silly ideas but I don't want overdo it and have this concept get old fast. I also hope I'm doing alright keeping everyone in character! I've been trying to write Bulma and Vegeta as a couple that shows a lot of their affection through teasing, but I want to balance it right so they don't sound too malicious or too sappy. Also, it's kinda my headcanon that Goku's "dumber" moments (especially in Super) are actually him just screwing with people like Vegeta and Beerus. So that's the POV I write him from! 
> 
> So yea, just let me know if you have any constructive criticism for me! And thank you so much for reading!

Bulma’s muscles burned as she pulled herself up the steep slope of fabric. The scientist preferred exercising her mind rather than her muscles, so climbing the fibers was no simple task. 

She was a single stretched-arm away from reaching her destination when two large fingers pinched the back of her lab coat and tugged on her. Bulma clung to the fabric and began to cry out: 

“No! Stop it! I was so close! You can’t make me go back I don’t want to be in there anymore! Let go!” 

Vegeta rolled his eyes and proceeded to pluck her from the spot below his shoulder that she had managed to reach. Using his remaining fingers, the prince pulled open the breast pocket of his pink button-up and unceremoniously dropped his wife into it. He then turned his attention back to eating the heap of food on their kitchen table as Bulma poked her head out of the shirt. 

“Oh c’mon, the whole thing with Scratch was just a freak accident. If we just be more careful we’ll be fine!” She folded her hands up to him, “Please don’t make me sit in your stupid pocket for the rest of the day. It's boring!” The Saiyan continued devouring his meal, ignoring Bulma as she sulked, “You know I’m starting to think that this is some lame excuse for you to wear your _Badman_ shirt. I knew you secretly liked it! Don’t worry you’ll be getting a lot more pink outfits from now on.” 

“Nonsense. It was the only shirt with a pocket.” 

“You know that’s not true! Even your armor has pockets…” Bulma’s eyes lit up as her husband presented to her the largest strawberry she had ever seen in her life. Practically drooling, she took the piece of fruit in her arms, “You know what, this isn’t too terrible of a situation. My teenage self would have had all of her dreams fulfilled: eating a giant strawberry with her princely husband.” She disappeared back into the pocket with her prize. 

Finally, Vegeta could eat in peace, “I knew that would silence you. I’ll be sure to carry a stash of those around.” 

Bulma surfaced again minutes later, satisfied with her modest lunch. She made sure to wipe her hands on the walls of the pocket and left a hoard of tiny strawberry seeds at the bottom as revenge for being forced into her pink prison. She noticed that her husband was rummaging through the fridge for more food, “Are you looking for more to eat?! Vegeta, you just cleared out the entire fridge! I know Saiyans have insane appetites, but Kami; you haven’t even been training all day!” 

It was true. The prince felt like he was more famished than usual despite the relatively inactive day he was having. He slammed the refrigerator door shut and walked out of the room, figuring he would just have to wait until Bulma’s mother cooked dinner later. 

Vegeta plopped down on the sofa of one of Capsule Corporation’s many seating areas. Not only did he feel starved, but completely drained of energy altogether. Bulma wasted no time crawling out of his pocket and descending his torso with far more ease than before due to his reclined posture. He made no move to stop the stubborn woman as she hopped off of his leg and onto the cushion next to him. 

Hands on her hips, she turned and smirked up at him, “See? I’ll be right here next to you and it will be fine. What could possibly hurt me when I’m sitting this close to you?” 

In an instant, the top half of Bulma’s body was crushed under a dark blue boot with both of her legs still free to kick around. Vegeta recognized the perpetrator from the footwear and orange gi that now overwhelmed his vision. 

A very oblivious Goku beamed down at him, his two fingers leaving his forehead to wave at him, “Yo!” 

Goku was greeted back with a fist to his jaw, launching the younger Saiyan through the walls of Capsule Corporation until he came to a stop in a crater on their front lawn. The prince ignored the destruction, tending to his wife who was once again sitting in his hands, rubbing her eyes and looking rather disheveled. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve been stepped on. The Micro Band makes me a bit more durable,” she ran her fingers through her tousled pixie cut, “not that it helps my hair much.” 

Goku floated back into the room via the hole in the wall that his body had created seconds earlier, wincing and rubbing at his jaw, ”Holy crap, Vegeta! I had no idea you could move that fast without powering up!” 

Vegeta bared his teeth at the intruder, a vein bulging out of his head as he boiled in anger, “You- you stupid, dumbass… idiot!” he stumbled through his words trying to properly convey his rage while scowling at a perplexed Goku, “show some goddamn respect for peoples’ privacy you impudent bastard! Your mindless teleporting could have killed Bulma!” 

However, Goku had stopped listening to the elder Saiyan scolding him and was instead captivated by the small woman sitting in Vegeta’s palms. The martial artist squatted next to the couch, grinning down at his oldest friend who stared daggers back at him. 

“Whoa! Bulma! You look different! Did you lose weight or something?” he teased. He had to hold back his laughter as all the anger disappeared from the Saiyan prince’s face, only to be replaced with a dumbfounded expression. _Vegeta’s too easy to mess with._

Bulma, on the other hand, rolled her eyes at the jest, “I mean, _technically?_ I shrank myself with the Micro Band and it didn’t want to grow me back.” She huffed and crossed her arms at having to admit her own failure, “Now my dad is fixing it and I’m stuck like this until he’s done.” 

Goku reached out to pick up the scientist but paused as Vegeta yanked her out of his grasp, growling at the other man. Goku blinked at his best buddy until his signature smile spread across his face once more, “Wait, you mean that size changing watch thingy? I thought you gave that to Master Roshi so he could spy on girls?” 

“ _That’s_ what he was using it for?!” Bulma shrieked, “I should have known that pervert would use the fruits of scientific brilliance for something so inappropriate!” 

“Didn’t you build the Dragon Radar so you could wish for a boyfriend and a bunch of fruit?” Goku peered down at her accusingly, “Wait a second... did you use your Shrinky Dink device to try and peek on Vegeta? You’re more like the old man than I thought!” 

“Goku, I don’t know what kind of marriage you have but I certainly don’t have to _sneak a_ _peek_ at my husband! And it's called a _Micro Band!"_  Bulma shouted as she jumped to her feet, clenching her fists at her sides. Vegeta sat there looking both stunned and furious as Goku laughed innocently at the two, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Kakarot, did you come here just to be an idiot or is there a reason you’re invading my home?” 

The orange-clad Saiyan jumped to his feet and began stretching his arms, unable to sit still for much longer, “Well, I figured you’d might wanna spar before everyone else got here. That should give us about an hour or two to warm up.” Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the statement and Bulma gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. 

“The reunion party! Oh Kami, I forgot all about it after everything that’s been going on today!” she glared up at her husband, “Vegeta! Why didn’t you remind me?!” 

Her husband flinched at her irritation, “What?! Don’t get mad at me, woman! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” 

“Yeah, Bulma” Goku added, “You said to me, ‘Don’t tell Vegeta I’m inviting the Universe 7 team over for a reunion ‘cause he would whine about having to show up. He always complains about us having these kinds of parties ‘cause he’s gotta giant stick up his butt.’” He quickly put his hands up as the older Saiyan scowled at him, “Her words, not mine! Wait, so does this all mean that I remembered a party that you forgot about?!" he grinned, "That’s awesome!” 

Bulma ignored her friend, staring off into the distance contemplating the situation, “I know Whis and Beerus will be here so I had my assistant take care of the catering. Hopefully she hasn’t needed any help since _somebody_ destroyed my phone earlier today, along with all of my lab.” She kicked her husband’s thumb to drive her point home; “Hopefully nobody was dying to use the gravity machine today. If you all want to spar we can always put up that force field we used when you and the other Trunks fought.” Bulma suddenly cried out, bringing her hands to the side of her head. 

Vegeta’s body stiffened at his wife’s sudden outburst, “What is it?! What’s the matter with you?!” 

“I have nothing to wear! All of my clothes are too big!” 

The prince felt his eye twitch at her overreaction, “Woman, was it really necessary for you to scream like that? You’re wearing clothes already, what exactly is the problem?” 

“Because I don’t wear the same things everyday like you two savages do! _I_ have an image to uphold!” she began to pull at her clothes for emphasis, ”I’m dressed in some old rags and a lab coat since I was just planning on cleaning today. I’m not even wearing a bra! Plus I smell like a shoe! I cannot be seen like this!” 

Goku, only partially listening to her rant, was now doing side lunges in the middle of the room, “So does this mean we can spar now or not?” 

Vegeta opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the woman in his hands, “No! He’s busy with me right now! You have been very helpful, Goku, but please go get lost until the party starts!” 

The martial artist shrugged, standing up and bringing two fingers to his forehead. Before disappearing he smiled down at his best buddy, “Have fun playing dress-up, Vegeta!” Then he was gone. 

The prince stared at the now empty spot, having briefly considered tossing his wife to the side and escaping with Kakarot. 

“Maybe I can contact my personal stylist to sew something up for me. She’s pretty talented and fast but this might be too weird, even for her…” Dear gods, Vegeta did not want to be involved in anything fashion-related with his woman. What if she wanted him to take her to that dreaded mall place? If he refused, he would never hear the end of it, and it’s not like he could just fly off to escape her wrath. He had to think of something quickly. 

“…Why not just use the clothes you purchase for that Barbara woman?” 

Bulma looked up at her husband quizzically, then understanding flooded her face, “Oh! You mean Barbie? That could work! She might be a bit too tall for me but I’m pretty sure Bulla has other dolls that are a bit smaller.” Although Bulla was still too young to properly play with such toys, Bulma could not resist the urge to buy clutter that she thought their daughter would enjoy, even if she had to wait a few years to use it. “Omigosh this is so exciting! When I was little I always wanted to dress like my Barbies! And I would make them little clothes that looked like mine and it was so much fun! And then I would invent mini prototypes of vehicles and have the dolls test them out for me. Do you know how many Barbies perished a fiery death in failed experiments? This is going to be so cute! I could put on a little fashion show...” Vegeta stared down at her in horror as his wife could barely contain her excitement. What the hell did he get himself into…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of the Barbies that have been tortured at the hands of little girls. 
> 
> Seriously, did anyone else brutally destroy at least one of their dolls?


	6. Kids Toys

_Thud_

Vegeta lazily opened one of his eyes as a tiny plastic shoe hit him between the brows. He was currently on the floor, lounging on his side with an arm propping his head up, trying and failing to keep his eyes opened. He squinted down at the source of the projectile.

“Woman, put some damn clothes on."

Bulma, clad only in her underwear, huffed at her husband’s blatant disinterest, “That’s what I’m _trying_ to do, but I can’t get the box I picked open! That’s why you’re here! I get it- this is boring for you- but you don’t have to be so dramatic about it!”

The problem was that the prince wasn’t _trying_ to be dramatic. Despite his strict sleep schedule and general restlessness, he was feeling abnormally worn out. He would never admit this, however, and convinced himself it was simply the boredom of acting as a glorified babysitter to his wife… at the same time, it wasn’t like he _hated_ spending the day with her…

“Vegeta!”

His attention snapped back to his now concerned looking wife. She cocked her head to the side, “What’s the matter with you today? Are you sick? You’re acting weird and kinda freaking me out.”

He grumbled an offhand “I’m fine, woman.” and reached for the box she seemed particularly interested in. It had taken the heiress quite some time to choose from her collection of impulsive merchandise, which lay scattered around an unused room that was now dedicated to the hoard of junk she cultivated from her shopping trips. The Saiyan tore through the excessive packaging, freeing the plastic woman from her prison.

He scowled looking at the figure. Between the platinum blonde hair and icy dead eyes, she reminded him of the female android. The cheery smile on the toy’s face was then only thing throwing off the uncanny resemblance. _I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that two fake humans look grossly alike._

Bulma watched him as she sat on a box, swinging her legs back and forth. With a playful grin, she started ordering him around again, “Okay. Now I need you to strip her out of those clothes for me. Don’t worry- you have my permission- so I won’t consider this cheating.” Her husband rolled his eyes, ripping apart the fasteners and tossing a pink long-sleeved shirt down to his wife, followed by a pair of black pants and a plastic set of shoes. Now that Barbie was naked, the Saiyan threw the doll into a pile of trash in what seemed to be an effort to reclaim his dignity.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Bulma winked up at the Saiyan, “Is that how you plan on undressing me later? I can hardly wait.”

Vegeta recoiled at his wife’s suggestion. For the most part he enjoyed how perverted his wife could be- after all, Saiyan women had been notoriously forward in both their words and actions. Bulma’s shameless ability to provoke both his temper and embarrassment had been a major reason as to why their relationship had started in the first place. However, due to the current circumstances, he just found her behavior to be ridiculous.

“I swear, woman, you are completely insane,” he stammered through his words, too flustered to notice Bulma drawing a pocketknife from her discarded lab coat, “what exactly do you think I could do with you? I mean you’re… I’m… it…” he let out a growl, frustrated he was wasting his time trying to explain himself to such an obscene human, “There is nothing in the multiverse that can come between you and your obligation to act like a vulgar-“ he was cut off by a tiny bra hitting him between the eyes. _For someone so uncoordinated, she sure has impeccable aim when it comes to hitting me in the damn face!_

Looking down at his miniature wife, the Saiyan was shocked to find that she had swiftly transformed the oversized clothes into a stylish outfit. She had twisted the pink shirt up into a short-sleeved crop top and turned the black pants into a small skirt. Bulma placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin at the Saiyan, “Well? What do you think?”

Vegeta would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little impressed, _“How did you-“_

“You know, a lot of fashion magazines say I’m too old to show off my midriff, but I mean, I still look incredible and it would be a shame not to flaunt it! Plus I feel like I made this look classy! I definitely would have picked blush over this awful bubblegum pink color though… not trying to trash talk your own shirt, sweetie, but I need something to make me look a bit more sophisticated if I’m going to be wearing a crop top. I guess beggars can’t be choosers…”

“Are you holding a _knife?!”_

Bulma stared blankly at him, “Yea… it was in my pocket when I shrunk.”

“Why didn’t you stab the cat with it?!”

“ _Vegeta!_ That’s a terrible thing to say! I could never hurt a poor kitty cat.”

He scoffed, “You would have let that beast eat you instead of defending yourself?” Bulma was now ignoring him, slipping into some pink heels while commenting on how small the doll’s feet were. She then scurried over to stand in front of her husband, offering him a view directly down into her “shirt,” which was definitely favoring her figure.

_I was right, there’s absolutely nothing capable of stopping her from being so damn vulgar._

Bulma beamed up at him “Well, let’s get this show on the road!”

* * *

“I swear, Vegeta. I think everything on Vampa is like... one big animal thingy.” Goku completely demolished a tray of hors d’oeuvres, ripping them from their skewers and throwing them into his mouth as a server replaced the now empty tray in front of him. He continued, mouth full, “it’s like a buncha fuzzy green lakes, but I’ve only seen the one single monster. It’s crazy!”

“Kakarot, swallow your goddamn food before speaking. Broly is practically feral and still manages to act more civilized than you.”

The two Saiyans sat at a table on Capsule Corporation’s great balcony while Bulma relaxed on top of its surface, debating grabbing one of the snacks Goku was currently inhaling. She was a bit nervous at the idea that she might accidentally get devoured along with them, though, so she sat back. She liked to think that her oldest friend wouldn’t eat her, but a few flashbacks to when he first turned into a Giant Ape made her decide not to risk it … 

The trio turned around as a gust of wind informed them of the arrival of two particular guests. Whis looked as poised as ever, smiling politely at the two Saiyans as a large purple cat emerged from behind him, already yawning.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He acknowledged Goku and Vegeta before turning his attention to the human on the table, “Bulma, I barely recognized you there! What on earth have you been doing to end up in such a state?”

Bulma returned a half-hearted smile, already annoyed with having to own up to her mistake. However, Beerus spoke up before she was able to admit to anything.

“I think it’s obvious what happened. Vegeta grew tired of her nagging and finally decided to use the Dragon Balls to wish her to be quieter and more manageable.” The god lazily inspected his claws as he continued; “Honestly I didn’t think he had it in him. Good for you, Vegeta. Perhaps I will leave here without a migraine for once.”

_Oh, son of a…_ Vegeta had to act quickly before his wife could share a few choice words that she no doubt had for the god. He could already see the rage boiling in her eyes and the situation starting to spiral out of control. At the same time, if he didn’t defend her he would have to face her wrath later tonight. Both options were terrifying to the prince. In the end, he had to think of the short-term consequences involving Earth’s fate and deal with Bulma later.

Beerus wasn’t exactly wrong- she _was_ a bit more manageable at this size. Just as she was about to unleash her temper on the oversized cat, Vegeta reached out to grab her in his fist, covering her entire body and effectively muffling her. He turned back to the address the god.

“Er, actually, Lord Beerus, this is just the result of one of her inventions malfunctioning,” the Saiyan felt his hand vibrating as Bulma screamed at him from his grip, clawing at his fingers. He was never going to hear the end of this, “It’s going to take some time before we’re able to fix it, but you know Bulma! This is just a consequence of, uh, being a _genius_.” He doubted his lame compliment would ease her outrage, but it was worth a try.

Beerus replied with an impassive grunt as Bulma finally emerged from his grasp, “VEGETA, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The prince cringed as his three-inch tall wife marched towards him. Fortunately for the Saiyan, a guardian angel intervened.

“Apologies for Lord Beerus’s poor behavior, Bulma. I’m afraid he just woke up from a very restless nap. He’s just been so excited to see little Bulla again!"

Beerus’s ears perked up before he whipped around to confront his assistant, “What?! Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not here to see that snot-nosed brat! Why would you even say such a thing?!”

Whis blinked back at the cat, looking mildly confused, “But Lord Beerus, you were the one who insisted that we bring a gift and everything.” The angel’s staff flared before a ball of light appeared next to it. The glow dissipated, leaving a raggedy stuffed animal of a purple cat in its place, “Why, we even made it to look like you! Though, if you ask me, the excessive stuffing makes it favor your brother more.”

Beerus growled, a single eye twitching, as he snatched the plush toy from the air. “You idiot! Why don't you just go around announcing it to the entire damn universe?!”

“Oh my,” Whis covered his mouth with his hand, “I had no idea it was such a secret, my lord.” The assistant attempted to stay serious, but dissolved into laughter as Beerus turned his attention back to the concerned group of mortals.

“Look, I just think that savage demon child of yours might make a good candidate for God of Destruction when I feel like retiring. She seems more qualified for the job than you two buffoons” Vegeta had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as Goku looked up with a mouth full of sushi and some rice on the corners of his mouth. The god gestured to the squishy lookalike in his hand, “This is simply a training partner for her to use for when I am not present,” he insisted.

Bulma, forgetting about her grudge from earlier, was now delighted that Bulla would be getting a toy from her beloved Uncle Beerus, “Well my mom is currently watching Bulla, so you’ll probably have to fight her to the death if you want to steal her granddaughter away.”

Beerus stood up straight, tucking the stuffed kitty under his arm, “I’m sure I can manage that…” he began to walk away while cracking his knuckles, causing Bulma to briefly reconsider sending a God of Destruction to fight her mother. She was sure the blonde would be just fine, though. Beerus’s greatest weakness was food, which just so happened to be Panchy’s specialty.

Whis turned to the fighters currently watching the purple cat leave the premises, “Well then, how does a bit of sparring sound?”


	7. Power High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it has been so long since I updated this!!! I really missed writing it but I was so busy! It's an extra long chapter today so I hope that makes it up to anyone that might have been waiting. :)

Bulma lay on her stomach, staring up into the sky from her spot on the table, while watching the two Saiyans attempt to attack an unperturbed angel. Whis instructed his students to stay in their base forms, fearing that two Saiyan gods might end up damaging Capsule Corp. and, more importantly, the spread of food that the heiress had prepared for them. Despite the lack of legendary ascensions or godly auras, it was still breathtaking to witness the parts of the spar that she was capable of seeing. Her years of being around the strongest beings in the universe had pushed Bulma to attempt to train her eyes to keep up with their battles… somewhat. 

Gohan and Piccolo were the first two participants from Universe 7’s team to arrive to the party outside of Goku and Vegeta. The half-Saiyan had been surprised at Bulma’s new stature while the Namekian appeared as reserved as ever. Gohan questioned her further about the incident with the Micro Band, the scholar sharing her fascination with the sciences and curious to know more about her invention. Bulma eventually managed to shift the topic over to Pan and the two fawned over various pictures of the toddler- Piccolo finally chiming in every once in a while. 

Eventually the master and pupil were immersed in a conversation regarding training and their experiences at the Tournament of Power. Bulma, unable to contribute much to that topic, once again turned her attention skywards to watch the spar occurring in the air. 

Vegeta had changed from his ridiculous pink shirt into the gray armor she had made for him. He soared towards the angel with a look of pure determination on his face, engaging in a combative dance that had been perfected over decades of practice. It was so captivating, watching him do what he was both best at and most passionate about. Bulma wondered if he felt the same way about her, especially during those times where she caught the prince gazing at her as she was engaged in her own work.

The scientist was abruptly pulled from her reverie as something tugged at the back of her skirt. Her head whipped around to look behind her, coming face to face with her reflection in a giant pair of sunglasses. The shades rested on the nose of none other than a red faced Master Roshi, who had the hem of her skirt pinched between two fingers. His lecherous grin faltered as he noticed her furious expression. 

“YOU STUPID OLD PERVERT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Bulma reached for a discarded skewer lying next to her and thrust it through one of the lenses on the old man’s sunglasses. The martial arts master toppled backwards onto the ground, frantically trying to backpedal on his actions.

“Calm down Bulma! I thought you were a doll! I thought you were fake! I just wanted to see how detailed it was!” he rasped as the blue-haired woman glared down at him coldly from her perch at the edge of the table. Gohan and Piccolo were pulled from their conversation, watching the sudden change in activity with utter bemusement. 

“Why would we have such a thing here, you gross old man?! Who thinks like that?! What is wrong with you?!” Bulma interrogated Roshi as he sat on the ground, inspecting his sunglasses and contemplating how close he came to becoming blind in one eye. Removing the imitation harpoon, he donned his now fractured shades as two more fighters approached the table from behind him. 

“Behave yourself, pervert, or you can find your own ride home.” 18 scolded the hermit coldly as her husband smiled sheepishly to the hostess. 

“Hey Bulma, uh, sorry about that. Guess we still need to keep an eye on the old man,” Roshi huffed and stood up, moving around the table to converse with Gohan and Piccolo. Krillin continued, holding out a small tray, “We did bring cupcakes though! We know how much of a sweet tooth you have, and, um… what happened to you, exactly?” Krillin finally addressed the elephant in the room after trying to stumble through some courtesies. 

Bulma cheerfully greeted her new guests, ignoring Krillin’s question, “Hey you guys! You didn’t have to bake cupcakes! That’s so sweet, thank you!” First she gets a giant strawberry, now some oversized cupcakes? The heiress briefly wondered if the weight she gained at this size would grow back with her. 

Krillin beamed down at his friend despite his question going unanswered. He had known the scientist long enough to simply take these situations in stride. “Hey, no problem! It’s the least we could do!” 

“We purchased them already baked from the store.” 18 dryly admitted as Krillin laughed awkwardly at blonde’s brutal honesty. 

The group eventually gathered at the table and Bulma assumed that this would be everyone present at their small party. 17 was practically impossible to contact outside of his rare visits to his sister and her family- and despite visiting the land he protected, Bulma was unable to track him down. Tien had never been very social in the first place, but was now completely dedicated to running his martial arts school. His presence was, understandably, not expected. 

And despite Goku’s absurd suggestion, Bulma chose not to invite Frieza. 

It was a small get together, but it was a good opportunity for the fighters to celebrate their victory, exchange stories, and share techniques learned over the last year. Bulma’s group of friends rapidly lost interest in her size- the strange events they had witnessed over the course of their lives causing them to be unfazed by such things. For a while, it felt as if things were back to normal.

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me that the vehicle that transports the food is edible as well?” Whis examined the corn flatbread on his plate that was covered in multiple layers of food. 

“Yes. It’s called a tortilla. You put stuff in it and it makes a taco.” The scientist summarized as the angel reached for chopsticks, “You don’t need to use utensils! Just fold it up by the ends with your hands!” Whis pondered this advice before finally lifting each end of the tortilla in a different hand. Wielding the food more like a sandwich and taking a bite, the angel squealed in delight as he tasted the brand new Earth dish. 

Bulma sighed and began looking around the table. _Well at least someone is trying,_ she thought as she observed Beerus and the Saiyans ignoring such practices and simply devouring everything in sight. The tiny woman watched as Bulla, who was seated in a highchair between her father and Beerus, reached over and grabbed a particularly appetizing piece of chicken from the god’s plate. The purple cat growled threateningly at the toddler as she happily munched on the piece of food, laughing at her Uncle Beerus’s silly reaction.

To Bulma’s amazement, the God of Destruction backed off, returning his attention to his plate and Bulla to hers. The scientist smirked, wondering if anyone else had ever stolen food from Beerus the Destroyer and faced zero consequences. She sincerely doubted it. 

The rest of the table acted with more decency than the deities and Saiyans. As a result, Bulma opted to sit closer to them, still hesitant that she might be made into someone’s meal. Krillin and Roshi ate plenty, while 18 picked at the food on her own plate. 

Panchy- who struggled to accept the fact that Namekians survived totally on water despite housing an entire planet of them- had provided Piccolo with an absurdly fancy glass for ice water decorated with a lemon slice. No matter how many times Bulma insisted that he didn’t care, her mother was concerned that the once “King of Demons” would feel left out. Like Vegeta, Piccolo acted annoyed over her foolish behavior, but deep down it seemed that the two secretly enjoyed the fact that someone was so mindful over something as “inane” as their _feelings._

Eventually, the devouring of food calmed down into a grazing over the remains of the feast. Whis, after complimenting the hostess on the new assortment of Earthling cuisine she provided, initiated a conversation of his own. 

“So, Vegeta. I noticed that you were holding back quite a bit today. That is so unlike you. Is everything alright?” 

Both Vegeta and Goku looked up from their plates at the angel, eyes wide and mouths stuffed full of food. Bulma had to stop herself from bursting out into laughter at how similar the rivals looked and acted when it came to eating- though if she admitted that to her husband he would probably begin starving himself. 

The Saiyan prince swallowed and responded to Whis, “Ah, well I’ve been wearing these training bands all day,” he held up his hand and lifted the hem of his glove, gesturing to an inconspicuous band wrapped around his wrist, “they hold back a significant amount of my power while I wear them, so they’re excellent for training.” Vegeta smirked as Goku swallowed his own food and gawked at the other Saiyan. 

“Whoa… I wanna try!” the younger man reached towards the tech as Vegeta pulled his arm away, cackling at his opponent. 

“I don’t think so, Kakarot. If you want training equipment so badly then you should have married an inventor instead of a harpy!” Goku pouted, everyone suspecting he was more upset about the gear than the insult to his wife. The younger Saiyan turned towards the center of the table, no doubt ready to pester Bulma about it, but the scientist was gone from her seat. 

Instead she now stood in front of her husband, arms crossed and eye twitching. Vegeta raised a brow at her change in attitude as she addressed him. 

“I had _one_ rule when I gave you those to wear. I asked you to do _one_ thing. What was it?” The prince gulped, his wife’s rage flowing off her body like energy. _Shit I don’t remember any damn rule._ He wanted to put the blame on her; after all she was the one foolish enough to lecture the Saiyan _after_ giving him a shiny new training toy. Of course he would tune her out! However, Vegeta assumed that his reasoning wouldn’t amuse the scientist.

Fortunately, Kakarot was dumb enough to stoke the flames of Bulma’s wrath, folding his hands together and offering his most irresistible puppy dog eyes, “Bulma, if you make me cool training gear like that I _promise_ to follow the rule unlike Vegeta. I swear- eek!” Goku let out an undignified shriek and leaned back in his chair as his oldest friend shifted her rage to him. 

“Shut it, Goku! I know for a fact that you wouldn’t follow directions either! Honestly, you Saiyans never listen to me and it always screws us over in the end!” Bulma took a deep breath, the entire table leaning in to pick up on her faint voice as she prepared to explain. “Vegeta was sort of correct when explaining the wristbands. They do influence your life force, but not by holding it back. Rather, they apply a constant opposing power to both your body and your energy without requiring or causing any external effects.”

Bulma was met with blank stares except for Gohan, whose eyes lit up, “So what you’re saying is that the bands sort of act like weighted clothing, but for your ki?” she nodded and the group reacted more positively to the scholar’s simpler explanation. _I guess he **does** explain things to people for a living, _Bulma thought as Whis interjected. 

“So why is it that you’re upset, Bulma? It sounds like Vegeta can make more out of even the most minimal of training using your invention. It doesn’t seem to be harming anything!” 

Turning back towards her husband, the miniature woman began her rant, “Because, like I told _Vegeta,_ it’s just a prototype and it’s dangerous to use for an extended period of time!” She marched over to his hand that was now resting on the table, drumming his fingers impatiently as he leaned back in his seat. The Saiyan observed, unimpressed, as she pushed his glove out of the way and attempted to pull the wristband undone, propping a foot onto his arm for leverage. Everyone watched her pitiful attempts as she continued, “The ki band adds more and more strain the longer you wear it- something I’m still trying to fix. I told Vegeta he wasn’t allowed to wear it for more than 60 minutes each day, yet here we are on day-freaking-one and he’s already been wearing them for hours!” Giving up on trying to pull the wristband apart, Bulma glared up at her husband, “One hour isn’t a big deal- you wouldn’t even notice the additional pressure- but you wear these for too long and you might end up not being able to move! And now it’s going to suck for you when you take them off. Your ki could be completely out of control… you might even get that ki disorder Goku had!” 

Goku looked far deeper in thought than he typically did outside of a battle, “So what you’re saying is that the longer Vegeta wears the bands, the more intense his training gets?!” Bulma face-palmed as Vegeta grinned smugly at his rival. 

“No Goku, the longer Vegeta wears them, the closer to death he gets! Ugh! Why did I ever think it was a good idea to give you these before I was done?! No wonder you’ve been so hungry and tired and _weird_ all day. You’re exhausting yourself!” Bulma was practically whining at this point, and Vegeta had to resist rolling his eyes at what was likely a complete overreaction. 

“I’m fine, woman. Do you really think a silly pair of bracelets will be enough to kill me?” Vegeta almost wished he could take his words back. Not only was he claiming that her science was wrong but he also sounded awfully condescending towards her invention. Bulma looked ready to snap before Krillin chimed in.

“Wait, how the heck did you not notice them earlier if he was wearing them all day?” 

“ _Because, Krillin, there’s a whole lot more to look at and think about when you’re this size, so it’s a bit difficult to notice everything!”_

An exaggerated yawn cut through the conversation and the party turned their attention towards Beerus, who was now being mimicked by Bulla with a smaller yawn of her own. The cat stood up, stretching dramatically, “Well Saiyan, it was nice knowing you, I suppose. I’d say I wasn’t expecting your wife to be the one to kill you, but that would be a lie.” The sun setting on Capsule Corporation framed his form as the god walked to the edge of the balcony. “Just make sure you have something tasty at the funeral party. Whis- I’m ready when you are.” 

The attendant stood up, smiling politely at the moody hostess and thanking her for another excellent meal. After Whis collected leftovers and dessert for a small doggy bag, the group said their goodbyes to the duo as they disappeared into a golden and azure sky.

* * *

 

Over the course of a few hours, spars, and arguments between the hosts, the party began to disperse. First among the crowd to leave was Krillin, 18, and consequently Roshi. The couple stated that they had to get back to Marron who, to Bulma’s concern, was spending her evening with Oolong and Turtle. One of those babysitters seemed more like a liability than a responsible guardian, and believe it or not it wasn’t the reptile. 

Gohan soon followed them out, stating he had an early start the next day. Piccolo trailed the half-Saiyan, claiming he also had an early start as he “was obligated to act as Pan’s temporary guardian for the day while Gohan and Videl took care of other commitments.” _So babysitting,_ Bulma thought. 

By the time their final guest was ready to take off, the sky was dotted with stars and Bulla had fallen asleep in her father’s lap, clutching her new stuffed kitty. In one last effort to convince Bulma, Goku fell to his knees, prostrating himself before his friend and begged: 

“Please Bulma. Please make me an invention like Vegeta has! Chi-Chi makes me farm all the time and radishes can only offer so much for training. Please Bulma. Super Saiyan please! Super Saiyan God please? Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan please with a Kaio-ken on top-“ 

 _“ALRIGHT GOKU.”_ Bulma screamed louder than should be possible for her tiny stature. Goku leaped to his feet and scooped his tiny friend up, squeezing her against his cheek in some type of makeshift hug while thanking her repeatedly. He plopped her back onto the table and took off into the sky, shouting goodbye to his slack-jawed friends as he disappeared into the night. 

Vegeta felt his eye twitch, having held himself back due to the toddler in his arms, “I’ll murder him next time I see him.” 

Standing up and brushing herself off, Bulma sighed, crossing her arms and looking away from her husband, “Don’t worry about it, you’ll probably be dead before then anyway.”

Staring at her back turned to him, Vegeta waited for her to start arguing, but the shouts and curses never arrived. No, instead it seemed he would be treated to silence now, which was far worse than any fight they could have. The couple thrived on the thrill of challenging each other in an argument; it was fun that often led to more fun, and was a very Saiyan way of communicating. 

But when Bulma was truly upset with him, Vegeta was given a cold shoulder. He could count on a single hand the amount of times she acted this way, and every time had elicited an emotion from the prince that he never imagined feeling in his entire life: shame. 

The Saiyan rose from his seat, Bulla snuggling closer into his chest as her father moved her around. He held his hand down for Bulma to climb onto, his offer going ignored for a moment until she reluctantly crawled into his palm, and carried his two girls into their home.

* * *

 

“At least take them off before you go to bed. Despite how much you probably want to, you’re not going to get any training done in your sleep.” 

Vegeta perked up at the first sentence his wife had spoken to him since they were on the balcony. She was currently sitting on their bed in an oversized shirt the couple stole off another doll after Panchy came to collect her grandchild for their  _sleepover_. Nodding at her, the Saiyan continued preparing for bed, stripping down to his underwear and walking over to his wife as he began to fiddle with the technology around his wrists. 

“Ok, so there’s a little button on the inside of your wrist on your left hand. If you just generate a little bit of energy in your finger while pressing it, it should unlatch both band-“ the scientist was cut off as Vegeta suddenly ascended to Super Saiyan the moment the bands unlatched from his wrists. An abrupt burst of energy launched her back into, fortunately, another pillow. 

The surge in power was brief, and the prince’s hair returned to black as he collapsed to his knees and fell to rest his head face-first on the bed. After taking a moment to get her bearings, Bulma noticed their room in disarray, the air charged with energy, and her husband lying unmoving with his face buried in the comforter. 

“Vegeta!” 

Eventually stirring from the intense rush of power, Vegeta raised his head to acknowledge the woman attempting to run across the bedspread towards him. “Scoot over woman, I’m fine.” He plucked the tiny human up by the back of her shirt, placing her on the pillow next to the one he intended to rest his head on. Lying on his back with his eyes closed, the Saiyan sighed, “That felt terrible.” 

“Yea, no shit.” Bulma rolled her eyes and crawled closer to her husband, who was looking utterly spent, “Just another time that that stubborn head of yours should have listened to me. What on earth were you thinking?” 

“I figured it would help me be more careful with you. I didn’t want to hurt you. You’re more fragile than usual.” 

Bulma’s scowl softened at his admission, “You just now picked me up like it was nothing. I’m a lot tougher than you think. I carried two half-Saiyan babies around for nine months each and gave birth to one. I’m not made of glass.” Despite the fact that he looked asleep, Bulma continued her speech, “Well at least you’ll get a mini power boost from trying to exhaust yourself to death. I doubt you’ll get another use out of those particular bands, though. They’re probably fried. Which is good. I have some assistants working on more prototypes and they should be done in a few days, but I’ll just tell them to destroy their progress if _someone_ can’t behave himself.” 

“Please. Don’t do that.” 

If Bulma was standing, she would have fallen over. It almost sounded as if Vegeta was begging her not to do something, and that definitely wasn’t his style. Those wristbands must have screwed him up more than she thought, “Excuse me?” 

“They’re incredibly useful. Even Beerus and Whis were impressed. Think of how much stronger I could be…” 

“How much stronger do you need to be!? You literally have the strength of a god, it’s not like you’re in desperate need of help!”

“But I still want to be stronger than Kakarot.”

“Ugh, this again.” Bulma thought her husband’s rivalry had gotten past the point of him endangering his own life, but perhaps she had been wrong, “I thought you were over that... You know, outside of a bit of friendly competition. Don’t tell me I need to start worrying about you doing something crazy again!” 

“No!” He groaned and turned to her. The heiress saw what looked to be not only exhaustion, but also disappointment in his eyes, “It’s not like that anymore… I just…” he turned away from her, “everyone is always relying on that fool to protect them. I just… I wish…” he sighed and closed his eyes again, “I just want you, Trunks, and Bulla to feel like I can protect my own family… I want to be the one to keep you safe. Not someone else. Especially not _Kakarot._ ” 

The room was silent moments after, Bulma speechless and Vegeta seeming to finally have passed out. It was rare for the Saiyan to open up in such a way, and his wife was unsure of what caused it or how to respond to it. 

Was she supposed to claim they didn’t typically rely on Goku? Her oldest friend had almost always been the one to come through over the years so it was only natural for her to depend on him. Though looking back, how could she not see that this might be something her spouse could feel insecure about? 

At the same time, she was feeling sentimental that even something as important as his rivalry with Goku was now motivated by family, not pride. Any previous frustration was gone and she now wanted to tell her husband how proud she was of him. Bulma wanted him to understand how much her, Trunks, and Bulla depended on him and needed him- maybe not always for something as shallow as throwing the strongest punch, but for a million other reasons no other person could fulfill. She wasn't letting this go. 

“Vegeta?” 

The only response she received was the sound of deep breathing that indicated that the Saiyan had fallen asleep.

* * *

 

Trunks shot up in his seat, convinced he had just felt someone’s power level rising. Then nothing. 

The half-Saiyan rubbed his eyes, assuming he had just dreamt about the sudden rush of ki while finally falling asleep. He looked over to the chair next to him where Goten was happily snoring away and spooning a couple of pizza boxes. 

 _Well at least one of us is enjoying the situation._ Trunks sighed, restless after spending the last 12 hours sitting on the couch. True, both him and Goten had become somewhat of couch potatoes as teenagers (as much as two full-blooded Saiyan fathers would allow), but this wasn’t out of his own free will. No… he recalled the threat his father had made earlier that day. 

_If either of you get out of these seats before I give you permission to, I will make sure that you can never leave them again! Is that clear?!_

Neither one of his parents would answer their phones, and now his was dead. He thought about just getting up, but, to the surprise of any outsiders, it’s not like his father always issued commands like that. Plus Vegeta had given him and Goten the glare of death when ordering them around and both teens knew not to disobey _that look_. In the end, it truly seemed like his father wasn’t screwing around and nobody was going to defy him no matter how stupid it seemed. 

Trunks laid back and stared up at the ceiling. _Well… guess I’ll just die here._


	8. Freedom

_Smack_

Vegeta stirred when a tiny slap hit him between the eyes. His brows furrowed together as an insistent noise roused him further from his sleep until he was conscious enough to peek one eye open. 

He was lying on his stomach, half of his face buried in the pillow while the other half was exposed to the abuse of his sleeping wife, who apparently made herself comfortable right next to him overnight. It seemed that she was the source of the assaults to his face and ears; one of her arms rested between his brows, a leg contorted the top of his lip, and her snoring filled the air with a volume that shouldn’t be possible for something her size.

The prince knew he would never get a moment’s peace so long as he lived on this planet. _We have a king size bed and you’re the size of a bug, yet somehow you still manage to harass me in your sleep._ Vegeta had become accustomed to his wife’s bedtime habits over the years. He simply held her at night so she was unable to kick or punch him in their sleep; an action she argued was cuddling while he referred to it as deterrence.

The snoring, however, required him to untrain his brain from waking up to the smallest of disturbances- a necessary skill to have during his time serving Frieza. If he wasn’t still sensitive to other beings’ energies, he was certain that an assassin could back a dump truck into their room before taking their lives, and they’d be completely unaware. 

Careful not to disturb his- _graceful-_ wife, the Saiyan sat up in bed, still feeling both exhausted and sore from the events of the day before. The strain he felt on his body was comparable to that of his first few years on Earth, back when he would spend days in the gravity chamber trying to achieve his Super Saiyan form. It was a bizarre feeling, like finding a new muscle to exercise that had gone neglected over the years. _Imagine if I had worn these while actually training,_ the prince thought to himself, staring down at his hands.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not happening. I’m having my employees destroy the other models.”

Vegeta hadn’t noticed that the snoring stopped. He turned to the woman still lying on the pillow, one dark eyebrow raised at her. 

Bulma responded with a questioning look of her own, “What? Do you not remember what I said yesterday? You _were_ pretty out of it. I was going to get more bands in a few days but I’m happy to tell your irresponsible butt that that’s not happening.” She crossed her arms and huffed indignantly, “You probably don’t even remember rolling over on me last night.” 

Vegeta opened his mouth to argue with her first point, only to stumble over his words at the surprise of her second, “Rolled over… no I didn’t!” 

“Yes you did! I’m the one that almost died, I think I would know!” Bulma watched as her Saiyan turned away. Although she couldn’t see his face, his ears warming to a scarlet color indicating that he was blushing, which she couldn’t help but giggle at. 

“…I should have taken better care of you. I wasn’t exactly functioning normally yesterday… usually I don’t move when I sleep… I guess I assumed you would be alright-” 

“Ugh! You think I can’t take care of myself?!” Bulma scoffed at the very Vegeta-like 'apology,' upset that he seemed to think she was completely helpless, ”I’m fine you dork. Besides… it was mostly my fault anyway.”

_“…How…”_ It was more of a demand for her to speak than a question, as the tone in the heiress’s voice sounded guilty. 

She grinned, however, clearly unashamed of what she was about to admit; “Well, I was cold and wanted to cuddle with you so I crawled to lay on your chest. But then I was bored and I realized I was basically laying on a bed of muscles and this would be my only chance to do this, so I started rolling around like I was in a flower field and I guess that irritated you and you rolled over on top of me and squished me, but honestly I was totally fine with it-“ 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Vegeta looked mortified as he interrupted her prattling. His wife blushed, cradling her face in her hands. 

“Oh don’t worry sweetie, being smothered by your bod would definitely have been in my top ways to go. If I didn’t have a bunch of babies to take care of I would have been 100% okay with it! But I got out alright and just cozied up to your cute face.”

Vegeta groaned, burying his face in his hands, as the scientist behind him burst out laughing, “Please never violate me in my sleep again, you bizarre, vulgar human.” 

“Oh please, as if you don’t love waking up to me s-“

The conversation was interrupted by a mechanical knock on the door. After exchanging glances, Vegeta stood up and walked over, opening the door to a servant bot waiting in the hall.

**“Delivery for Mr. Vegeta.”** The bot stated impassively as a compartment on its body opened, revealing what looked to be a small ring box. 

“I’m guessing this is from your father?” Vegeta addressed Bulma as he took the box from the robot. 

**“Negative, sir. I am 98% certain that robots do not engage in reproduction.”** The bot scurried down the hall as the prince stared after it before turning to the scientist on the bed, unimpressed. 

“…It’s an older model.”

“That Gero bastard could create monsters that rivaled Frieza, and _that’s_ your family’s answer to him?” 

“Hey! We invented capsules, not AI. Besides, the bots work fine, but if you want, I could make a whole bunch of them that could break both your arms _again_ since you admire Gero’s work so much!” 

It was a risky thing to say considering Bulma’s only means of getting back to normal lay literally in the palm of her husband’s hand. She laughed innocently as he stared coldly at her, “So I guess you wanna hand me that box now, huh?” 

Vegeta continued staring at her, deep in thought, before turning his attention to the container in his hand, “You were saying earlier that you had more of those devices on the way in a few days, no?” 

She blinked at this unexpected conversation, “…Excuse me?” 

He turned his attention back to her, a sadistic grin etched across his face, “Maybe I should hold onto the Micro Band and keep you like this until I get what I want. I don’t need you to go off and destroy those bands, and it should only be for a few days. Do you think your employees will drop them off here?”

Stunned, Bulma stared back at the Saiyan prince while searching for something to say. He wouldn’t actually leave her like this, would he? For some stupid bracelets? What emotion should she even be feeling right now? Anger? Yes definitely anger. 

Bulma was unable to end the silence as Vegeta burst out into laughter first. Still grinning, he tossed the box onto the bed, “I’m just messing with you, woman. You should have seen the look on your face.” 

“Hey! I thought you were really going to leave me like this!” the tiny woman pouted as she scurried over to the package. Vegeta rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, because it has been such a treat dragging you around at this size. I love wasting my time chasing cats and playing dress up when I could be getting stronger in the gravity room.” 

“Aw, come on hon, it was a _little_ fun,” Bulma heaved the top of the container open. Sure enough, it appeared to be a simple ring box with a brand new Micro Band sitting upright in the ring slot. The scientist rushed to latch it around her wrist and hurried to the center of the bed, looking up excitedly at her husband, “Alright! Drum roll please!”

“…” 

“Fine, you’re no fun.” She placed an index finger on the large red button, took a deep breath, and pressed down.

Nothing happened. Again. 

“It didn’t work.” 

“Really, Vegeta? Really? I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for your very insightful observation!” Bulma began rapidly pressing the button on the face of the band before a large hand slapped the bed next to her. She shrieked and then glared up at the Saiyan, “What was that for?!” 

“Last time you did that you almost lost an arm. Stop panicking and think through this. You’re too smart to act like that."

The tiny woman sniffed, still feeling awfully panicked, “Ok…”

After examining the band and finding it in perfect condition, the scientist crawled back over to the box looking for any clues as to what may have went wrong with her invention. Eventually she noticed a piece of paper poking out from where the Micro Band had been. She smiled sheepishly up at her husband. 

“Uh… there may have been a small note included.” Vegeta rolled his eyes as Bulma unfolded the paper to reveal a sloppily written letter made just for her size.

 

_Bulma,_

_Here is the finished Micro Band. Do not be alarmed if it doesn’t work right away. I adjusted the settings so that your size will double over the course of each hour. Since you have been small for so long and because of your old age, I figured that would be less of a shock for you. You’re welcome in advance._

_Dad_

 

“What did it say?” Vegeta asked as his wife began to angrily tear the note into shreds. 

“Oh, not much. My dad’s not as brilliant of a scientist as I am so he couldn’t program an immediate transformation,” she lied, “It’s going to take… a little over four hours for me to get back to normal.” She clapped her hands together, smiling, while Vegeta looked rather annoyed, “So we’re going to have fun for my last few hours at this size!” 

_“…How…”_

* * *

 

“Trunks, we’re going to die here. It feels like I haven’t eaten in years.”

Trunks had his face buried in his hands, feeling both restless and irritated by his friend’s insistent complaining, “Goten, we only missed breakfast. And I heard you the last eight billion times.”

“I think I’m gonna piss all over the couch, Trunks, I have to go so bad. Your dad would be fine with me getting up so the couch doesn’t get covered in pee, right?”

“Goten, I don’t care what you do. You heard him as much as I did.”

“But I don’t want him to kill me! Can’t you-“ Goten’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he stared past Trunks, who turned around to see his father casually walking into the room.

“Vegeta!”

“Dad!”

“What?” The older man stared back at the boys, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

Trunks spoke up, unsure of how to address his father’s overly casual behavior, “Uh, can we get up now?” 

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the question, “Did your ass finally attach itself to the couch like I kept saying it would? Why are you asking me?”

Now it was Goten’s turn to speak up, “You said we had to stay here! Or we would never be able to leave the couches again! Don’t you remember?!” Vegeta stared thoughtfully ahead of himself before responding. 

“Oh yea. I suppose I did say that...” 

“So can we leave?!” the boys asked in unison. 

“…No.” 

The prince smirked as the teens began to gripe and whine. Trunks was ready to beg his father to stop being such a dick when a tiny mop of blue hair popped out of his shirt pocket. The half-Saiyan stared in bewilderment as a miniature version of his mom nagged at his annoyed father, while a distracted Goten continued to beg for the bathroom. 

Vegeta finally rolled his eyes and spoke up, “Your mother says you can go.” With that he walked away and Goten flew from his seat, calling dibs on the bathroom and leaving Trunks alone to contemplate what exactly he had just witnessed. 

The teen eventually stood from the couch and followed his father’s energy into the kitchen, finding the full-blooded Saiyan rummaging through the pantry. “Uh, hey dad, you want to explain to me what the hell is going on here?” 

Vegeta turned around, his arms full of ramen, cupcakes, and other types of junk food, “I’m eating.”

Trunks shook his head, “Ok, you _know_ that’s not what I’m talking about. What the hell was that thing in your pocket?”

“That’s no way to speak about your mother.”

“Moth-“ Trunks stopped in his tracks after following the Saiyan to the stove. There on the table, sure enough, sat his other parent, three inches tall and waving at him, “-er?”

“Hi Trunks!”

Their son stood frozen in the center of the kitchen, before rushing over to his mom and kneeling before the table to be at eye level with her, “What the hell happened to you?! Why are you like this?! How long have you been like this?! Are you okay?!”

“Ugh! Why do people keep asking me that!” Bulma stubbornly crossed her arms and turned her head to the side, “well I’m done answering that question! Sweetheart, I’m fine, alright? Your dad's been taking care of me!”

“Oh dear god.”

“Seriously! He’s been caring for me like a baby!”

_“_ _Oh dear god.”_

Vegeta growled, “Hey- I’ve been a good ‘irresponsible-wife-sitter’.”

“You have, honey! The cat only got ahold of me once!”

Trunks felt as if he were about to faint, “Why are you all being so casual about this! Aren’t you doing anything to get back to normal?!”

“Sure we are. But right now I’m going to eat as much junk food as I can because when I return to normal size none of it will go to my waist.”

Vegeta brought to the table an open pack of strawberries and cupcakes as water boiled in a pot behind them. Trunks stared as his parents casually picked at the snacks, “Is this entire family insane?! Or am I crazy for thinking you all should be a bit more freaked out by this?”

“Oh wow! Cupcakes!” Goten strolled into the kitchen and helped himself to the food on the table. Trunks stared at his friend in disbelief.

“Goten, are you blind or something?!”

“Hm?” Goten looked around before his eyes landed on his friend’s mother, “Oh, hey Bulma! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Hi Goten! You hungry?”

“I’m always hungry!”

“Well we can make some ramen for you as well,” Bulma turned to her son, who was looking defeated from his place on the ground, “Trunks, honey, do you want any ramen?”

_Is everyone here crazy but me?_

Trunks sighed, and joined everyone else at the table. “Sure, why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's going to be one chapter left! It shouldn't be very long though. :)
> 
> I can't help but write teen Trunks like his future self in this story. Future Trunks was always the one appalled by everyone else's craziness and I couldn't help but add that to the story. I hope he doesn't seem too out of character.


	9. The End

“It’s the bit that looks like there’s a wavy fan at the end of it- no the one behind that one- yes it’s in that row! Now pick the one that says MTS-3… what do you mean you don’t see it? It has to be there, I use that bit all the time- don’t you dare call my lab unorganized, mister, or we can just walk away from this project!”

Vegeta was completely out of his comfort zone. He never thought of himself as clueless when it came to basic sciences or engineering. Growing up, he was always around mechanics and scientists working under Frieza; not to mention the knowledge he had gathered over the years keeping his space pod and scouter functioning when there was no one around capable of doing it for him- usually while he was on one of his purges. The prince knew he had been a sharp kid; his mere survival was proof of that.

But that was space. He was on Earth now, assisting the most intelligent of beings on this mud ball of a planet and perhaps in the entire galaxy.

They were on their third hour now and Bulma stood at about half her normal height. After insisting that she was at an adequate size and brushing off her husband’s disapproval, she took off back to her lab to start creating a new console for the gravity chamber.

Her first obstacle was opening the door. Vegeta entered the code in a smug silence as his wife continued to stubbornly attempt such a complicated task on her own. Inside the lab, a servant bot was making headway on patching up the hole in the wall that the Saiyan had created the day prior. Bulma hoisted herself onto her seat, stopping to catch her breath as her husband leaned against the desk and watched with his arms crossed.

The scientist managed to climb to the surface of her desk and fish through one of the drawers for the console blueprint that she always kept on standby. Vegeta stood, genuinely surprised at how far the tiny woman progressed.

It wasn’t until an overfilled toolbox fell from a shelf and nearly crushed the scientist that the Saiyan demanded she stop. To his relief, she agreed to, and now he was acting as her arms and legs- a task that was making the prince more and more frustrated. There were a few things that Vegeta was among the best at doing and he enjoyed doing only those few things- everything else just pissed him off.

“Wow, dad, you made a lot of progress!” Trunks encouraged his father from across the floor where his portion of the work had been sitting, finished, for the last half hour.

“Don’t patronize me, boy. I would be doing better if I was also familiar with this organized mess that your mother calls a lab.”

Trunks shrugged, “I mean, you’re not wrong. This room is such a disaster that sometimes the cleaning bots dump garbage in here.”

“I’m right here you two!” Bulma huffed from her spot in her chair, her legs dangling over the edge like a child’s would, “And I can find everything perfectly fine, thank you very much! That’s all that really matters.”

The group was interrupted by someone clearing their throat at the door. Panchy stood at the entrance of the lab, holding a blue-haired toddler in her arms.

“I hate to be a bother, but someone has an appointment to get her hair done today!” Bulla struggled from her grandmother’s hold and floated to the ground, an impressive display of the training Vegeta practiced with her. She then darted across the room to embrace her big brother.

“Tunks!”

“Okay mom, we got her, thanks a bunch!” Bulma called out to her mother, who turned and left the room. Bulla sat in Trunks’ arms and pointed to the tinier version of her mom.

“Baby?”

Both men had to stifle their laughter as Bulma crossed her arms, “No Bulla. _Mom-my_. I’m just a little smaller right now.”

“Baby.”

“Bulla, no I-“

“Baby!"

Bulma sighed then yelped as she was pulled into the air. Vegeta held her like one would a football before going to grab his daughter and cradling her in his other arm. He turned to his son; “I’m going to go take the baby to her crib. Bulla could probably use a nap too.”

Trunks smirked as Bulma squirmed and shouted from her spot at his father’s side, “Alright, I’ll just finish up here. It should only take me a few minutes.”

Vegeta nodded, and carried the two women out of the lab.

* * *

 

“I missed holding my baby.”

An hour later, Bulla sat in her mother’s lap, playing with an interactive book the two had been reading together on the floor. Vegeta sat across from them, simply watching and listening as he often did.

“You were small for about a day. You’ve been on trips longer than that.”

“Yea but it doesn’t matter, any amount of time sucks. Soon we’ll never get to carry her like this ever again, so we have to hold her as much as possible.”

Vegeta had learned that lesson with Trunks about six years prior. “Hn.”

Bulma turned the toddler around to speak to her face-to-face, “Did you miss me while I was gone? I missed you!”

“Yea!”

“Daddy was taking good care of me. He’s good at taking care of us, isn’t he?”

Bulla giggled and looked over at her father, who was looking away while blushing.

Bulma continued, “One time, back when Uncle Beerus wasn’t as nice as he is now, he tried to have a fight with your mommy. But Daddy stood up for me and he almost beat Beerus in the fight. Not even Uncle Goku could do that.”

Bulla was definitely her mother’s child. While she only knew a few words, she was intelligent enough to understand more than any child her age. She sat, captivated, before smiling at her dad once again.

“Bulma.”

“Hm?”

Vegeta had his typical humorless expression on, unimpressed by his wife’s exaggeration of the events that occurred that day, “What are you trying to do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” The woman brushed him off and turned her attention back to her daughter. He might not remember opening up about his insecurities the night before, but she certainly did. Her husband had always kept a strange humility while he was around their children; their son hadn't even been aware of his royal blood until Bulma had brought it up one day.

Never would she have thought that pride would be something that Vegeta struggled with, but here he was, worried that his family wouldn’t rely on him and unable to boast about his talents around his children. Well if he wasn’t going to brag, she would do it for him.

“Your dad also defeated someone almost as strong as Uncle Beerus and saved the entire world! He saved everyone!” Okay, now she was underestimating his achievements, but she doubted her toddler would grasp the concept of the multiverse yet.

The baby crawled over and wrapped her arms around Vegeta’s neck, squeezing him into a hug that probably could have broken his spine about 20 years ago. Bulma leaned over and kissed him, planning new ways to make sure her husband knew just whom their family depended on.

* * *

 

_Where is it, where is it, where is it?!_

Vegeta frantically searched through the eighth junk drawer in his wife’s lab. _Is this entire lab just made out of junk drawers? Gods!_

It was 5:00 A.M. and the prince was in his training clothes scouring the room along with Scratch, who meowed questioningly at the Saiyan’s odd behavior.

“I know it’s here somewhere. You’ve seen how the woman hoards her technology. There’s no way she would throw away one of her science projects- ha!” he pulled a container of ramen from the back of the cabinet he had been rummaging through, grinning triumphantly. Scratch tilted his head and meowed again.

“Don’t be fooled, she wouldn’t leave junk food like this laying around uneaten.” He peeled back the top and pulled out two wristbands similar to the ones from a few days prior. The prince strategically placed two bracelets (from Bulma's jewelry collection that she had never even worn) back into the cup and sat the ramen back in its spot at the end of the drawer. Vegeta snuck out of the lab, leaving it as messy as it was when he entered, and walked toward his gravity room. 

Once there, he wrapped the bands around his wrists, ready for a more intense and fulfilling day of training. Summoning a little bit of energy into his finger, he pressed the button on the inside of the wristband.

Something happened.

Instead of beeping in approval, the world shot up around him in a dizzying fashion. He eventually got his bearings and looked around- the gravity room appearing to be around 100 times the size it was supposed to be, and he was standing in the middle of it, about three inches tall. 

Vegeta felt his eye twitch, and yet a smile spread across his face. He didn’t know whether to scream or laugh at the fact that his wife always managed to stay one step ahead of him.

Back in their room, Bulma began to burst out laughing as she imagined her husband falling for her plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for commenting, bookmarking, and for all of the kudos! All the feedback is so appreciated! 
> 
> I look forward to starting a new project soon! <3


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